Thursday, July 03, 2014

I Should Have Had The Salad

Greetings from Atlanta, Georgia, where outdoor conditions are just about right for boiling eggs. The nights are filled with the agonized shrieks of cricketts and bullfrogs who are likewise boiling, and my belly us filled with cheap fried food which is just about all that is available at the moment. I'll admit I did consider the limp brown salad but decided to give it a pass.
Is it any wonder then that my stomach is holding a protest rally and recruiting neighboring organs to join in? Whatever happened to just signing a petition? Anyhow we are beyond that phase and I've lost a few days of driving to the necessity of having a restroom within range for suprise demonstrations from my agrieved digestive track.
There is a little more to it actually. I would only be out a day or so if I had been able to successfully deliver my cargo here in Atlanta, but I was turned away at the gate due to an unforseen technicality. It seems that this particular customer will not unload a refrigerated trailer unless it has at least 3/4 of a tank of fuel. I had only 1/2. This seems odd to me since unloading the trailer takes only a matter of hours, whereas 1/2 a tank of fuel will last days. Anyhow before I was able to acquire the requisite fuel (which due to another technicality could not be purchased at the nearest fuel station but only at an approved fuel station about 20 minutes away) I was visited by the avenging spirit of Montazuma - undoubtedly on behalf of the newly formed digestive reform movement in my belly.
Anyhow the upshot was that I was delayed at the nearest (un-approved) truck stop just long enough to run out of legal hours of service (yet anothet technicality) and so could not legally drive to the approved fuel stop and get back to the delivery point - which by this time was fine by me as civil unrest had clearly developed in my lower intestine and I was not feeling up to navigating Atlanta freeway traffic - or indeed even the truckstop parking lot. I communicated the situation to my dispatcher who offered her sympathies and prescribed rest and liquids. Feeling wiped out, exhausted, and light headed I retreated to my bunk hugging a gallon bottle of water which I nursed for the next day. As it turns out, the holiday weekend will delay delivery even further so it looks like I will be here a while. I will probably at least get the fuel situation taken care of tomorrow and maybe look for a grocery store so I can get some healthy food before my kidneys go on strike. Wish me luck!
Believe it or not, there is food worse than McDonalds. It's called Waffle House. For those of you who haven't experienced Waffle House, burn some bacon, then throw on some frozen hash browns, top with a slice of Kraft singles, and season with cigarette ash and broken dreams. Or you could just take my word for it. Their grits are actually pretty good though. The waffles are "meh."

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